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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503601">Calm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkixsensei/pseuds/nikkixsensei'>nikkixsensei</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Blacklist (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:46:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkixsensei/pseuds/nikkixsensei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-write of 7x19 – "The Kazanjian Brothers" designed to both explore the psychological ramifications of Red's illness and present Elizabeth Keen in a much better light.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington, Josephine Moliere/Raymond Reddington, Raymond Reddington &amp; Dembe Zuma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"How are you feeling?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Happy as a seagull with a French fry."</em>
</p><hr/><p>Red's headache returned with a vengeance, further compounded by a hollow, sinking feeling, as the call ended.</p><p>
  <em>Trust your instincts.</em>
</p><p>If the previous year reinforced anything, it was that basic philosophy – one of many that served him well for several decades. People lie through their actions, what they say. People use whatever mechanism or plurality given the set of circumstances in play to take control.</p><p>It was him. More accurately, his feelings for her were the culprit.</p><p>The emotional pull that constantly drew them back to one another and also contributed to his forgiving her every indiscretion.</p><p>Elizabeth would always be his Lizzie.</p><p>That knowledge assured she had the upper hand, an advantage.</p><p>Depositing the phone in the rear console caddy, Red lifted his eyes to Dembe and found his friend staring back at him in the mirror. What does one say in these situations, if there is truly in fact anything to say aloud?</p><p>
  <em>I try to leave nothing to fate, but I'm perfectly comfortable with chaos.</em>
</p><p>That assessment made to Ilya in jest remained true up to a point.</p><p>Chaos, the not knowing what awaited him, was part of what made life as a wanted fugitive turned criminal informant with quite the immunity package such a thrill. In ways, his tenure with the task force was comparable to a second lease on childhood – a period of his life where innocence and hope were neither foreign nor distant.</p><p>Fate, on the other hand, had other plans for him.</p><p>His destination was carved.</p><p>
  <em>You underestimated Elizabeth. She's on your side after all.</em>
</p><p>Red didn't subscribe to that perspective – he could ill afford to.</p><p>He was no amateur and considered himself quite proficient in psychological studies. One doesn't have to share the same physical space in order to draw conclusions. Mannerisms and posture were quite informative. For him, however, it was the combination of specific verbal cues and speech patterns that he found more reliable.</p><p>What a person says or doesn't say, how one constructs sentences, and the time in between marked by silence or deliberation offered greater intel.</p><p>Coupled with history, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together.</p><p>After all, he and Lizzie traversed this path several times already.</p><p>It constituted a pattern, if not a ritual, of theirs – however unpleasant and irksome the experience was. She would need him, and of course he'd step up without hesitation. Because that's what you do for the people that you love. The matter would turn in her favor, she'd celebrate with him for a time and then expel him from her orbit – casting aspersions and blaming him for the very position he helped her escape from. Her capacity for trusting him one moment and in the next flipping the switch entirely frustrated him to no end.</p><p>Her inquiry into his condition was a pretext.</p><p>He was certain of that.</p><p>Red clenched his right hand, willing the tremor to stop.</p><p>
  <em>I don't care about who you were. I care for you are, and that's the only thing that matters.</em>
</p><p>It was all so unfair.</p><p>The more he opened himself up to her, the more danger he introduced not only to his own life, but to all participants of a war he didn't begin. If he didn't care, all would be so much easier. But that was immaterial. At the forefront were questions:</p><p>How did he come to be in this position yet again?</p><p>Why wasn't he safe in the company of those who knew him well?</p><p>How come the people he loves don't reciprocate the loyalty he exhibits to the same degree? Newton, Kate, Lizzie repeatedly, Dembe even. Each betrayal left a wound, and over time coping became more difficult.</p><p>What would it take to break the cycle?</p><p>
  <em>My prescription is rest. And honesty.</em>
</p><p>He found himself unable to fight the first recommendation, his eyes growing heavier as the drive continued. A glance to his GMT Master II informed him they had roughly an hour and a half before arrival. Thoughts turning to the second dimension, he scoffed.</p><p>Honestly, he was scared.</p><p>He was scared of what was happening, scared of what could happen, and couldn't divulge either facet of that truth to anyone.</p><p>How was that for a dose of honesty?</p><p>If recent events were any indication, an alliance with Katarina would result in peril. The woman purporting to be her mother was a master manipulator, her tactics a precise duplicate of those employed by Tom and Alexander Kirk among others. Had those experiences not presented opportunities to learn and adopt a different pattern of behavior?</p><p>How could Lizzie be so gullible?</p><p>How could she extend trust to a woman she'd known for the equivalent of five minutes?</p><p>How could she align herself against him?</p><p>Answers, like progressive solutions, were scarce.</p><p>Overcome with a sudden chill, Red pulled his coat tighter across his torso and gingerly stretched out along the length of the back seat. He felt Dembe studying his every motion and concentrated on the jazz tunes emanating from the speakers, the chorus of instruments swiftly taking him under.</p><p>For so long, it was the darkness, the images conjured by his subconscious, that he feared. Chalk it up to his being exhausted from the day's events or the new medication flooding his system. Now, he welcomed it.</p><p>Only there did he feel the light.</p><p>In sleep, he tasted the reality he craved so much.</p><p>He wasn't cast as villain in his Elizabeth's eyes. He wasn't a stranger to the little girl he adored and devoted every second of every day to during the 10 month span in which her mother was comatose. His shoulders weren't weighed down by the burden of carrying other people's sins and correcting the many wrongs and injustices of the world. There was no need to keep go-bags stocked and within an easy reach or fear of any variety.</p><p>It didn't hurt to breathe.</p><p>All of those elements that held sway in the conscious realm were trivial during the dream state, so he latched onto that sense of calm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dense, black fog faded. Revealing a place he knew intimately.</p>
<p>
  <em>Praia de Marinha.</em>
</p>
<p>The scene rivaled his beloved window view from Hempstead.</p>
<p>The water was a brilliant shade of turquoise, crystal clear as the expanse stretched beyond his line of sight. The cliffs framing the beach were all crafted of orange limestone, rocks varying in size. One formation, in particular, piqued his interest.</p>
<p>It was shaped in the form of a 'M'.</p>
<p>Later, he would learn from conversation with the locals its proper name.</p>
<p>The Cathedral.</p>
<p>He found it highly appropriate. You had to navigate the high parts of the trail to really appreciate its splendor or alternatively view it during the low tide.</p>
<p>The sun was warm on his face. In his right hand was a cold drink, his grip steady. Nestled against the planes of his chest was a stunning brunette who in full health was arguably the one person who ever accepted him at face value.</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Josephine Moliere.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p>She was the only person he ever brought here with him.</p>
<p>This was among their favorite places. Despite the number of recommendations, the beach itself was rarely heavily populated which lent assistance on a variety of fronts. For one reason or another, they allowed for caution. Nonetheless, that never interfered with their capacity to just enjoy one another's company.</p>
<p>However or whenever possible, they cultivated opportunities to escape, to get away. More often than not, they would find themselves in Portugal and savor every moment in between until the inevitable came to pass.</p>
<p>They would part ways.</p>
<p>That was one less concern to dwell on, he mused.</p>
<p>They had all the time in the world.</p>
<p>"Remember when you took me sailing?"</p>
<p>"How could I forget?"</p>
<p>On a number of occasions, he would rent a boat, and together they would navigate the open waters for days on end. Contrary to her claims, Josephine was a natural. They spent countless nights on the top deck, spooning under a set of blankets, cataloguing the stars and shifts in the colors of the sky.</p>
<p>She was fascinated with the combination of hues colliding.</p>
<p>In turn, he was fascinated by her curiosity.</p>
<p>"We should have done that more often." She sighed, flattening her left palm over his heart.</p>
<p>"I know." He agreed.</p>
<p>Red took a deep breath, relishing both being able to do so effortlessly and her touch.</p>
<p>"What's troubling you, Raymond?" She craned her neck to peer into his face, her palm instinctively finding its way to his cheek. Her thumb traced the early phases of a beard.</p>
<p>She often encouraged him to grow one.</p>
<p>"Why am I here? How come that beautiful mind of yours has conjured me?"</p>
<p>"I miss you." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure how to answer without - "</p>
<p>"Is it what Dembe said, about getting help for the sake of the people who love you?"</p>
<p>Ever the mind reader.</p>
<p>"That's a short list."</p>
<p>"I highly doubt that."</p>
<p>"Why? Because I'm the easiest person to love?"</p>
<p>"Would I suggest anything that was untrue?"</p>
<p>Josephine had a point.</p>
<p>Reaching for his right hand, she took the drink from his fingers, set it down on the towel next to their open basket, and sat up – turning her body into his. He responded automatically, arching his back as her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels planted firmly in the sand on either side of him. Returning one palm to his heart, she grasped the thin material of his shirt with the other and toyed with one of the buttons.</p>
<p>"You are going to be okay, you know?"</p>
<p>"You think so? How can I? I've miscalculated – misjudged – so many variables recently in spite of having all the information I need directly in front of me."</p>
<p>"Faith. I have faith in you, Raymond. I have always believed in you."</p>
<p>He brought both of his hands to her face and stared deeply into her eyes.</p>
<p>"Jo."</p>
<p>It had been so long since he called her that.</p>
<p>"You've seen everything. You know what's happened. Would it be so bad?" At her quizzical expression, he continued. "If I stayed here with you, if we never leave this beach."</p>
<p>The look on her face broke his heart.</p>
<p>"Don't. Raymond, you can't talk like that. I want nothing more than…" She paused, fighting back tears, gesturing between them. "I want this to be real. I want us, on our beach, in our villa, forever. But I love you too much. I cannot be selfish and take you away from the people who care about you. You have to fight. You have to promise me. Promise me that you will."</p>
<p>"For what? All I create is danger and misery for the people I care about."</p>
<p>"My love, that's not true." She whispered.</p>
<p>"Isn't it?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>The silence stretched between them.</p>
<p>With expertise and care, Red brushed away an errant tear and leaned inward, kissing her softly. Her grip on his shirt tightened. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back just enough so their foreheads continued to touch.</p>
<p>No doubt, the desperation he saw in her eyes matched what he felt.</p>
<p>It was probably exceeded given the disparity in measuring time. Years for him could very well have been decades, if not centuries, for her. If roles were reversed, and he was the one waiting for her, the time leading to their reunion would have been worthwhile.</p>
<p>"Dembe, Isabella, Chuck, Morgan, Teddy, Vontae, even Glen – they all need you. There is also Elle of course. But it's your daughter who will need you most of all."</p>
<p>"Agnes." He chuckled.</p>
<p>"She doesn't know who I am. She barely remembers me."</p>
<p>Josephine shook her head. "In time, she will. Raymond, I see so much of you in her. She prefers blankets over comforters and loves trains. Her mannerisms, especially when annoyed or playing with puzzles or trying to pronounce a difficult word from a story… She even has your eyes."</p>
<p>Smiling again, she continued.</p>
<p>"There are so many chapters ahead of you: Watching Elle grow up, seeing her graduate from high school and then college, walking her down the aisle with Dembe on the opposite side of course, holding her first child. You will even get married again. You will get to see Agnes accomplish the same milestones."</p>
<p>"Is that so?" He asked, arching his eyebrows.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>Red took a few seconds to regain composure, not so secretly loving the images her words sparked.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry if that - "</p>
<p>"You have nothing to apologize for."</p>
<p>
  <em>So many for so long have been innocent.</em>
</p>
<p>It was his turn to fight tears. "I am so sorry. I should have saved you. I was too late."</p>
<p>Josephine disagreed. Kissing his forehead with equal tenderness, she spoke again.</p>
<p>"You took such great care of me. You did everything you could, gave me everything and more. I couldn't convey it outwardly, but I can share it with you now. You should know how excited I became whenever a nurse at the facility mentioned your name, or told me you were coming to see me. Every time you came, I thought my heart would explode out of my chest because it pumped so hard. I have no regrets, apart from the obvious – a chance at a future." Her eyes were bright with infinite joy. "I always hoped that you would find someone new."</p>
<p>Breathing her in, Red swallowed thickly.</p>
<p>"What should I do…about Elizabeth? When do I tell her?"</p>
<p>"She has a number of things to figure out for herself before you two have that conversation." She replied, matter-of-factly. "Don't let anyone rush you into making a decision. Tell her only when you're comfortable."</p>
<p>A call from a distance permeated the inner workings of his mind, his grasp on her – their surroundings – tenuous. How could he move forward when the ground beneath him was far from solid?</p>
<p>He wasn't ready to leave. He couldn't lose her again.</p>
<p>"What is it?" She probed gently.</p>
<p>"Nothing hurts. I don't have to look over my shoulder or face the inevitability of someone I love and trust betraying me. I'm not fatigued or struggling to survive and reclaim balance. My body isn't failing me here. The only pain, in fact, is waking up. I'm...whole, if that makes sense."</p>
<p>"It does. It makes perfect sense. You will be fine, Raymond. You're not just a patient to Stark. He respects you, and he cares. He will devise a treatment that works. Trust me."</p>
<p>He could never deny her anything. Why deviate now?</p>
<p>"A couple more things."</p>
<p>"Name them."</p>
<p>"First, lean on those around you. Once her vision clears, Elizabeth will see the error of her ways and come back to you. As for Dembe, no one is more devoted to you than him. He loves you. Remember that."</p>
<p>"I will. What's the second?"</p>
<p>"Second, don't lose hope. Don't give up. If you do, then what we had was for naught, and we both know better. Honor me and all that we shared together by living your life for as long as possible. Can you do that for me?"</p>
<p>"I promise you. I will."</p>
<p>"Good."</p>
<p>He deliberated for a second or two. "I know."</p>
<p>"Know what?"</p>
<p>"Your question from before, about why my subconscious chose you, I know the answer: direction, possibility. Who better to remind me of how real and tangible those things are than the person who first opened the door, made me believe I was worthy of both?"</p>
<p>Again, a call crossed the horizon. It was more persistent both in nature and origin.</p>
<p>"I will always be with you, Raymond. In life, you were the only man I ever loved. In death, I love you even more."</p>
<p>They wept openly, feeling their time come to an end.</p>
<p>"Goodbye."</p>
<p>"Goodbye, Jo."</p>
<p>Their lips met again, and everything turned white.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em>Sometimes, you make your own fate, and sometimes fate makes you."</em></p>
<p>Not wanting to disturb Raymond, Dembe turned the dial counterclockwise, releasing it only when he reached the desired volume. Then, he retrieved the burner mobile previously deposited on the rear console, placing it in his jacket pocket, and spared a quick glance at his brother before returning his attention to the road ahead.</p>
<p>The quiet also afforded him a chance to reflect.</p>
<p>The conversation from a year ago, the subject of which was fate and its direct correlation with decisions as well as relationships in the interim, echoed across the chambers of his mind. So much had occurred in a 24 hour window, and the reality that the day was merely a precursor wasn't lost on him.</p>
<p>Unfair was the adjective that he found fit the situation best.</p>
<p>Warranting equal consideration were normalcy and culpability by extension. Regarding the former, questions concerned reacquiring so much as a fraction of it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Did you tell her anything?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No, but I was going to.</em>
</p>
<p>Revelations, however simple or multifaceted, held great power. Like words, the resulting damage was neither subject to nor bound by any exercise of forethought. Predictions were impossible to form - that applied to most situations.</p>
<p>However, this path wasn't new or foreign to them.</p>
<p>Encountering mortality was a rather common hazard given the environment they operated in. As a consequence, serving as his compass, guiding him in all sets of circumstances, was one principle: forgiveness. The bond he and Raymond shared was, in and of itself, a form of love.</p>
<p>It was capable of enduring all things.</p>
<p>
  <em>I've trusted you with my life, with everything in my life. You are the person to whom I'm most vulnerable.</em>
</p>
<p>In the moments, the milliseconds, he turned from his Imam and mustered every ounce of fortitude and courage in confirming the one thing Raymond feared most since Katarina re-entered their orbit, the safety net that enveloped them disappeared in spite of opting for honesty.</p>
<p>For all intents and purposes, it collapsed into rubble.</p>
<p>In its wake, there was no foundation under their feet.</p>
<p>At present, their interactions felt less than authentic, more akin to those that stem from not having any alternative but to lean inward. Nothing between them flowed. Despite speaking to one another, there was no confidence or semblance of trust to stumble upon.</p>
<p>He didn't like it.</p>
<p>
  <em>You are not to blame.</em>
</p>
<p>Maybe the term wasn't emblematic of the weight he carried. Responsibility, on the other hand, was very much in play.</p>
<p>How so?</p>
<p>As he came to learn from Chuck, while he was in Katarina's grasp, Raymond succeeded in repairing Marvin's standing in the legal community, creating a bypass that would allow him to resume practicing, and worked tirelessly toward recovering Imam Asmal safely - a cause he didn't have to dedicate himself to.</p>
<p>But he did so anyway because it was right.</p>
<p>Noble.</p>
<p>Morgan offered nothing when prompted. Instead, he looked at him with sharp eyes and after a few seconds turned away, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Raymond in a manner resembling what was once an automatic reflex for them and them only.</p>
<p>He was disappointed by the turn of events.</p>
<p>If Teddy, Heddie, and Vontae's responses were indicators, Morgan wasn't alone in sharing that perspective either.</p>
<p>Before him at the time was a quandary, a balancing act between one man's life and another's secrets. There was no deceiving Katarina. If compelled to talk, or <em>when</em> compelled to talk, there was no room for fabrication. The truth was her sole interest, and that wasn't an element to manufacture on the spot - not when a life was on the line.</p>
<p>As Raymond's breathing deepened, realization set in.</p>
<p>Two lives rather than a singular entity comprised the balancing act. The other ingredient coupled with his participation, unwilling or otherwise, was little more than a side effect.</p>
<p>The Katarina he remembered wasn't cruel or without heart.</p>
<p>She was more than capable of extending love.</p>
<p>The woman he sat across from was unknown to him - vicious, cold. Her precision and methodology were a reflection of torture, the pattern exhibited by a person operating from a place of self-interest rather than on behalf of the greater good. Ilya was a prime example of her tactics and the damage caused. Still, he fell prey and chose wrong, damaging his relationship with the one person who made living as he knew it possible in the process.</p>
<p>Because of Raymond, his very existence was changed forever.</p>
<p>Improved.</p>
<p>The best decision was no decision at all.</p>
<p>Call her bluff.</p>
<p>Survival and adaptation work hand in hand. It's not as if the variables involved were so different, his being held captive by Solomon years earlier functioning as the point of comparison. While his Imam didn't know Raymond as intimately, he stood firm and remained silent, knowing full well what was at stake. Betraying any confidences never crossed his mind. Raymond would never apply merit to the concept either.</p>
<p>So, considering the matter from only his prism, what changed?</p>
<p>Why did he yield?</p>
<p>More accurately, why did he fold?</p>
<p>The test was one of faith. By his own standards, he failed.</p>
<p>From a tactical standpoint, testing Katarina's resolve may have redefined danger and its scope per prior experience. But there was a certainty in having certain tangibles intact, the joy of a friendship being one of them, which qualified the risk as especially worthwhile.</p>
<p>Raymond opened the door and presented him endless opportunities, and he repaid that kindness by making him feel expendable for the second time in a year. As distressing as that knowledge was, more painful was the resignation suspended in the air.</p>
<p>
  <em>Your purpose is to protect Elizabeth, but mine is to protect you.</em>
</p>
<p>In addition to forgiveness, another constant always found its way in: an image.</p>
<p>It depicted how their journey would end and begin again, the sequences linear in nature.</p>
<p>There was Raymond's list consisting of individuals and coalitions, the names of which would be given to the task force with a set of terms negotiated and agreed upon beforehand. Taking down such adversaries would help facilitate new bridges from their end, allowing for networking as well as capital expansion, while also posing an equal amount of benefits to the bureau. This process would continue for a number of years until the day came, and the individual occupying the top position is apprehended.</p>
<p>He – or she – would be in custody.</p>
<p>Raymond's name would be restored rather than wiped clean. Similar to their first encounter decades ago, a taste of freedom awaited him.</p>
<p>Himself, Raymond, Isabella, and Elle.</p>
<p>Alliances come and go which is why the portrait cultivated in his mind's eye never included anyone else.</p>
<p>As Raymond said once, there were parcels of land they had yet to frequent. They were to travel unencumbered. The capacity to go anywhere, to power to choose where they lived, those luxuries came more easily to others. It was time for them to be presented with and enjoy the same. Dembe never imagined that the ultimate challenge, the obstacle that would derail all they had aspired for and worked toward, would manifest in the form of Raymond giving up.</p>
<p>It wasn't supposed to be this way, he argued.</p>
<p>Then again, if not their friendship, what did Raymond truly have to latch onto? There was a void within that remained out of his reach. Scratching the surface was impossible for him, and he wondered.</p>
<p>What did Isabella know that he didn't?</p>
<p>Why did Raymond insist on seeing her?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"All the world’s a stage,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the men and women merely players;”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- William Shakespeare</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong> <em>FIVE WEEKS EARLIER…</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>Six days. That's when Isabella last spoke with her father.</p>
<p>Many calls since were unreturned, alarming her even more.</p>
<p>Taking stock of that conversation and what she came to learn from it, she deduced that something was off – there was an element in play she couldn't quite get a grasp of. It was obscured from her periphery. Maybe that was the point because her safety was their top priority. As much as she appreciated their concern, the validity of arguments posed, maintaining such a distance became increasingly difficult as time went on.</p>
<p>She wasn't unaccustomed to speaking at irregular intervals. Regular communication, as she defined it, went unsatisfied for substantial periods which made so much as a fraction of an opportunity to properly speak with either Raymond or Dembe cause for celebration. Weighing probabilities, the context of any call was more often than not to be rooted in danger.</p>
<p>Did that matter to her?</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>Enduring was all that mattered.</p>
<p>Times weren't so simple now. In fact, they were quite complicated and not necessarily or even wholly because of her. There was another life – Elle – to consider. And then, there was her Papa himself.</p>
<p>Searching for Ilya was an additional form of stress he could ill afford to carry.</p>
<p>She wanted to help – and could.</p>
<p>As much as she enjoyed watching her beautiful and curious child navigate the many stages of childhood, what she most anticipated and hoped for was having the two men who comprised her universe at her side taking a large part in her miracle and greatest accomplishment. Their grace and generosity were to be experienced first-hand, Isabella thought. She never wanted her child to ponder who they were, what were they like. She wanted her to have tangible artifacts and memories of her own to fall back on rather than anecdotes from others' experiences.</p>
<p>While they wanted for nothing, there was no value to be assigned in having that one request fulfilled. Life would feel more complete somehow, if that even made sense.</p>
<p>She surmised it was a form of understanding unique to her.</p>
<p>But there were limits – a cost – to satisfying certain demands of living, she learned.</p>
<p>While hope and prayer were free, it was quite another to act and make decisions from a place of self-interest. No matter how strongly she desired doing so, Isabella would never ask Raymond to walk away from a cause that despite all of the tribulations and calls that were far too close experienced in between held great resonance and relevance for him equally.</p>
<p>Traveling from place to place demanded changing phones at a regular frequency and keeping a supply of burners at their disposal. That policy didn't apply now with their always returning to Bethesda once all affairs were conducted. For emergency purposes, she was the first to be apprised of any modifications with respect to contact numbers. Schedules with full itineraries and flight plans were provided as well.</p>
<p>For her daughter's sanity as much as her own, she didn't allow herself to dwell on or succumb to the emotion – the fear – vying for top position.</p>
<p>Word was bound to surface, she knew.</p>
<p>Just the same, she was impatient.</p>
<p>She could always reach out to Chuck or Morgan. After all, this was a time of crisis. If not, what qualified as such? Unveiling the top sheet from her manila folder, she reviewed the list of contacts and narrowed her options from multiple to one: Heddie. Granted, she wasn't within as easy a distance by comparison, but surely she was close enough to know what was going on.</p>
<p>Full or partial details, Isabella resigned herself to making due with whatever was offered.</p>
<p>Again acknowledging it wasn't enough.</p>
<p>Elle's worry nearly matched her own in spite of being far too young to understand certain concepts.</p>
<p>Just as she turned to reach for her phone, it rang.</p>
<p>
  <em>Papa.</em>
</p>
<p>Quickly, she answered.</p>
<p>"Papa, I've been so worried. Are you alright? Have you found Ilya?"</p>
<p>"Ilya's okay. He's sedated and resting. If only we…"</p>
<p>She heard both the frustration and exhaustion in his voice and wished she was there to embrace him. In the background, she detected her father speaking with someone, a physician maybe or Teddy whose company she always enjoyed.</p>
<p>As their voices faded, Papa's heavy steps emerged to the forefront, and she wondered.</p>
<p>What was he walking away from?</p>
<p>Or rather <em>for</em>.</p>
<p>"I just wish we had gotten to him sooner before she - "</p>
<p>Wait. "She? Who, Papa?"</p>
<p>His footsteps stalled, no longer filling the line, and were replaced by deep breaths. Right then, she knew. "Katarina." Isabella shuddered, images of him being tortured appearing in her mind's eye.</p>
<p>"She's dead."</p>
<p>"Dead?"</p>
<p>"Shot in the middle of the street. In spite of everything, what she subjected me to, I wanted to help her. But Dembe…He stopped me before I could - "</p>
<p>"Dad was right to stop you."</p>
<p>Her assessment surprised him and herself to be frank because of how automatically it came to her, constituting neither a reflex nor impulse.</p>
<p>"I could have saved her!"</p>
<p>"You could have gotten hurt as well, or worse." She took a heavy breath of her own. While she wasn't sorry to learn of Katarina's fate, she was sorry for the agony it caused him. "I am truly sorry about what happened, Papa. I am, but you risk so much."</p>
<p>"Dembe said something similar to me years ago. Debating with either of you is no good."</p>
<p>A chuckle, however small, on the opposite end delighted her.</p>
<p>Lifting spirits on both sides a bit.</p>
<p>"How's my little princess doing?"</p>
<p>Isabella smiled and looked at her daughter engrossed with a book, her third of the week.</p>
<p>"She misses you. We both do. Elle talks about you all the time. Often, she asks when you're going to come back and play and read stories to her. I read to her, but it seems I don't have your gifts of changing tone to suit the characters and making faces."</p>
<p>She pictured her Papa smiling at that moment.</p>
<p>"Give her a hug for me, and tell her I love her."</p>
<p>"I will."</p>
<p>Soon after, he was walking again. A door opened and then closed before he spoke.</p>
<p>"'I didn't tell her.'. That's the first thing Ilya said to me when I met him in the ambulance. What does that say about me?"</p>
<p>"It's not a reflection on you."</p>
<p>"Isn't it? He's tortured possibly where only an inch separated his life from whatever comes after, and those are his first words."</p>
<p>"You're focusing on the wrong thing. Papa, you take care of everyone, do everything for everyone. Sometimes, you have to remember to take care of yourself too. Part of that is changing the way you see yourself. You are so good. If anything, Ilya was just as relieved to have survived at all, to see you again. His words stem from love, from friendship and the trust that's attached to it. He knows you never doubted him."</p>
<p>Isabella paused to take a breath, allowing her words to sink in.</p>
<p>Suddenly, it dawned on her that there was more.</p>
<p>"Something else is bothering you."</p>
<p>Red sighed audibly, a signal of his deliberating how to answer, what to say next.</p>
<p>"Tell me. Please." She encouraged him.</p>
<p>"It's Elizabeth. I'm afraid that she's..."</p>
<p>He began with discussing one of her neighbors, Mrs. Monzewski, who disappeared weeks prior under mysterious circumstances. By his estimation, she and Elizabeth were on good terms, and others in the complex regarded her affectionately.</p>
<p>"The apartment is - or was - rented by a 'Maddie Tolliver'. Turns out that 'Maddie Tolliver' was an alias Katarina assumed."</p>
<p>"Connection?" She asked, retrieving a pad and pencil.</p>
<p>Next, he spoke of the security detail assigned by the bureau. Those agents have disappeared without a trace as well which on its own merit represented cause for concern except the debacle didn't end there. According to Aram, Elizabeth received a parcel containing surveillance footage, images, and permit documents from Rock Creek Park.</p>
<p>"Has something happened to Agnes?"</p>
<p>"That's what I need you to find out."</p>
<p>Chewing her lip, she asked carefully.</p>
<p>"And Elizabeth...What's her role in these events?"</p>
<p>"This morning, I had a conversation with Elizabeth in which she intimated threats being waged. I spoke of Ilya and Katarina in the same breath, not validating her suspicion that the woman who abducted me in Paris as she dictates it and Katarina are one and the same - "</p>
<p>"Because they aren't."</p>
<p>Raymond concurred and resumed. "Almost immediately, she deflected."</p>
<p>"On what point?" She asked, genuinely curious.</p>
<p>"In response to Katarina targeting and in effect bringing harm to those who matter to me, Elizabeth said - and I quote - 'She could hurt us.'. Her posture and tone of voice when saying those words just... I asked directly if she was on the receiving end of any threats or if her security detail had picked up on any unusual activity, and quickly she changed the subject, asking instead about the blacklister of the day."</p>
<p>"Disposition?"</p>
<p>"Annoyed." He replied with a scoff. "That's all I seem to inspire in her lately."</p>
<p>Isabella shook her head, continuing to write.</p>
<p>"Later on, per her invitation, Dembe and I came in to peruse a number of files with the task force. The purpose of which was to identify my captor. Elizabeth lifted one before quickly going home. We went for hours without hearing from her, and - "</p>
<p>"You suspect the file was Maddie's?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>Little by little, the puzzle was coming together.</p>
<p>All of the pieces pointed in one direction.</p>
<p>"Papa, this means that she - "</p>
<p>"I know."</p>
<p>There was a profound despair in his voice now. However rhetorical the questions connected to the inquiry, she would acquire the answers using any methods possible because he deserved them.</p>
<p>"I won't mention this to Dad."</p>
<p>"No, Bella. I could never ask you to keep this from Dembe - "</p>
<p>"I'm choosing to because of one thing – the reason. Why you are bringing this to me instead of him."</p>
<p>Only a person with an unbiased lens could sift through the debris.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>PRESENT DAY…</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>Isabella stood at her living room window, the curtain pulled back a fraction as she waited.</p>
<p>The dread filling her system, she found, was more tolerable than reviewing the articles arranges sequentially across the coffee table an additional occasion. Forensic reports, surveillance photos, raw video, hotel receipts, phone records, permit as well as travel applications together all spoke to quite a deception, the depth of which not surprising but taking her aback simultaneously.</p>
<p>And to think the hardest part was yet to come.</p>
<p>Being in a position to offer confirmation and revelations in the span of one conversation wasn't one she relished. It also failed in representing how she wanted to spend all too precious time with the men she loved dearly, but she wasn't taught to run away from a task because following through proved difficult.</p>
<p>Moving forward in spite of the challenge ahead was ingrained.</p>
<p>So she prepared herself as best as possible.</p>
<p>While it was yet within her line of sight, she heard the car pull up and tied the panel back, returning it to its original position. Unlocking her front door, she pulled it open and stepped onto the paved terrace, watching her father depart from the driver's seat. There was no motion from the back row.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"What Raymond doesn't know is you're not in the middle, are you?"</em>
</p><p>"I'm on your side."</p><p>Those four little words rang deathly hollow. Elizabeth's eyes fell to a spot on the barren hotel room wall and she stared hard, the adrenaline flooding her system dissipating almost immediately.</p><p>
  <em>Am I a good person? I'm not so sure anymore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm sure.</em>
</p><p>Is that where she was now? Was she back there? Was she back to that place from years past where only one person could provide the warmth and security she needed so desperately? She was on the run then. If the underlying implication was credible, she was on the run presently as well - the enemy being her reflection in the mirror.</p><p>What an unusual day.</p><p>Keep moving - that's the instruction she imposed on herself for several hours. Its manifestation came in the form of pacing her small office from one side to the other, repeating the same process in the abandoned corridor connecting their work space to the locker room area, engaging in conversation with her colleagues, and posing questions that were often repetitive and ultimately of little consequence in the same breath. Unconsciously, she rubbed the scar extending from her palm to her wrist.</p><p>A quick downward glance confirmed that the skin was red and swollen.</p><p>She couldn't stop - she had to push on. Now that she was still, however, she had no alternative but to confront the images associated with a reality that she could no longer suppress or ignore.</p><p>Reality.</p><p>That was a concept she had minimal grasp of lately.</p><p>As correct as Cooper had been about the lines blurring so often in collaborating with Red, it was the impropriety or harm of it all he was incorrect about. Professionally, they all flourished. Working at his side, exploring the aspects of his world in varying increments, sharpened their skill sets and facilitated true change - good in its purest form. As for the personal elements, per her study of psychology, it was advised that one never make any determination with emotion serving as the focal point or basis of. Given the circumstances, it was through that lens and relying on the tangible, physical and actual experiences, that the capacity for reason breathed and existed only there.</p><p>The lines, in her case, blurred as a result of lying so frequently.</p><p>Sometimes, she couldn't ascertain what the truth was.</p><p>For all of her talk about outperforming the master, she had once again fallen way short of that mark. 30 seconds and the minutes that followed were etched into her mind forever. Her terror in those moments was one thing she didn't lie about; her surprise at his ability to conceal his suffering from her, or more accurately her failure to take note, was another. Seeing Red collapse not under the weight of the allegations leveled at him but whatever affected him physically, the confusion which first morphed into fear and then sheer panic as awareness of his surroundings coupled with the capacity to respond returned, how very still he was as she clutched his hand...</p><p>He was so small, helpless.</p><p>A sharp contrast to the larger-than-life presence he embodied.</p><p>Rather than pushing him to lie back across the elder woman's lap, she wanted to pull him into her embrace, hold him as he had held her in times of despair and whisper assurances until he calmed. But she hadn't for reasons of wanting to obscure just how deeply affected and invested she was.</p><p>Collectively, the event illuminated her to just how fractured their relationship, their connection to one another, had become. Of all possible candidates, Ressler was the last she expected to be in possession of such knowledge by comparison to her. Granted, there was a respect between them she failed to account for. As it turns out, he was the only member of the task force aware of any ailment which begged two questions.</p><p>First, why?</p><p>Why didn't Dembe tell her?</p><p>Why was Dr. Clemons directed not to?</p><p>Second, what could she do?</p><p>Was there a mechanism in which she could repair the trust that was clearly lacking, if not absent altogether?</p><p>
  <em>You spoke to Reddington?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I did and told him that your mother was off-limits.</em>
</p><p>Why was that exactly?</p><p>How had she profited from this newfound alliance? They were treading the exact same waters she and Jennifer navigated last year. As was the case so often, the path chosen always led her back to the same destination.</p><p>To Red.</p><p>
  <em>There will be more choices for you to make.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Between you and him.</em>
</p><p>It was one ultimatum after another.</p><p>Early in life, she promised to rewrite her history and construct something positive from the tumult of benefiting rather than being hindered by the unknown in the event she had children of her own. Instead, she was erasing and subtracting, stripping away at a foundation she knew was solid and with proper dedication would thrive as well as endure.</p><p>Red was a significant part of that foundation.</p><p>If not for his influence, Elizabeth and Sam Milhoan would have never met – he never would have raised her. To that end, she wouldn't have those memories and precious artifacts to fall back on, draw comfort in, and share with Agnes. Despite both appearances and her recent conduct, her childhood was something to marvel and look upon with gratitude. For all of the questions that seemed ever important, she experienced more than her share of love to compensate.</p><p>
  <em>Does the fact that she rescued him tip the scales any?</em>
</p><p>Weeks earlier, Katarina abducted and sought to bleed Red dry so long as he didn't cooperate with her demands. There was no changing or rewriting that fact no matter how many occasions afterward she expressed desire for a different, less fatal outcome. Also deserving greater examination was the landscape of yet another war she helped mold and cultivate. It was difficult to go on the offensive seeing as how the supposed enemy wasn't one at all.</p><p>Being angry with Red for no reason that warranted actual conversation was another parallel to draw from the day's experience. Suspect was how she found it permissible to push the envelope this far.</p><p>There's elasticity to every bond. Otherwise, all connections forged would last.</p><p>
  <em>I'm on the side of the truth.</em>
</p><p>His wasn't the only trust to recover; Dom and her colleagues had become collateral damage as well because of her treachery. She didn't want to be that person, the one who betrays in the face of loyalty and unwavering dedication. She couldn't afford to either stop feeling or follow blindly any longer. Red deserved much better as did her colleagues and especially her daughter. There was so much to repent and answer for.</p><p>How could she set an example to emulate?</p><p>How could she dare to lay claim to or assert moral superiority when she wasn't faithful to her own set of standards?</p><p>'Me, me, and more me' was the bait.</p><p>And she fell into the trap like an amateur.</p><p>
  <em>I'm not going to beg you to allow me the privilege of helping you. So say the word, and I'm gone.</em>
</p><p>Perhaps, the deduction or take away would be different if the truth and HER truth were one and the same. But they weren't. Regardless of the mystery and chaos that derives from being in his orbit, Elizabeth couldn't picture her life without Red in it. She wasn't ready to push him until the tether connecting them broke.</p><p>Frankly, she didn't want to either.</p><p>That was her truth.</p><p>
  <em>We may not have bigger lives, but we have each other.</em>
</p><p>Recovery was attainable.</p><p>She was firm in that conviction and understood with perfect clarity that control of the matter was hers to wield. Clawing herself out of the hole she helped dig was no one else's responsibility but her own.</p><p>"And he can't defend against that."</p><p>Katarina's voice registered.</p><p>Now was her opportunity to set things right or begin to. Clenching her hands, she took a breath and turned right.</p><p>"No, he can't. Because he isn't the person others need to be protected from. You are."</p><p>The woman's mouth moved, but words didn't come. Her posture and overall mood shifted from pompous to bewilderment, puzzlement.</p><p>"I am?" She asked. "I don't understand. Didn't you just say moments ago that - "</p><p>"It's the children whom the world almost breaks who grow up to save it."</p><p>"What does that mean?"</p><p>"Red. He said that to me once."</p><p>"What's your point, Elizabeth?"</p><p>"My point is this. How he pushes me isn't relative to distance, to either push me away or draw me in closer. He pushes me to be better, smarter, to expect more from myself and move forward. But you..." She paused, pointing at her counterpart. "You push until the other person breaks. You take morsels and twist them until he or she agrees to do your bidding. If they don't, you torture and exact pain. Vengeance."</p><p>"Yet, you don't trust him."</p><p>"Wrong. It's myself when we're together that I don't trust. That's why things between us are so complicated."</p><p>"Reddington and I aren't so different."</p><p>Elizabeth shook her head. "Wrong again."</p><p>"How? Domain matters as much as to him as it does to me, or anyone else who finds themselves caught in a maelstrom. My life is on the - "</p><p>"Enough! I know your tale of woe. All I've done is listen to you talk and talk and talk some more, and that's the problem. You've told me all of these things, but you haven't shown me anything."</p><p>"I've shown you Reddington isn't Ilya Koslov."</p><p>"That's nothing."</p><p>"Is it? Since that's not enough, you tell me. What is it that - "</p><p>"Are you hearing me? I'm done with listening. Matter of fact, I'm tired of listening. People have been hurt. Others are dead because of what we - "</p><p>"We." Katarina intimated between them. "What we've done. Isn't that what you were about to say? You're not so innocent yourself, my dear."</p><p>"I made mistakes, crossed lines, gave you names that I shouldn't have. I will pay for that."</p><p>"And the lives you've taken in his name? A former Attorney General, Ian Garvey - you shot them. To protect him. Then, last year, you turned Reddington in and nearly got him executed."</p><p>Katarina drew out every syllable which only increased her agitation.</p><p>"So, you've had eyes on me for some time." Elizabeth replied, the assessment rhetorical. "My actions, or the reasons behind them, can't be explained or viewed simplistically."</p><p>"I agree, but the issue of his identity clearly matters to you. If not, why did you use his captivity as a window of investigation?"</p><p>"The badge conditions me to look at Red one way, but my heart and mind steer me in another direction."</p><p>"What's changed? How can you be on my side as you say and find me suddenly unworthy of your protection? The Sikorsky Archive has information that can corroborate my claims."</p><p>"Assistance, you mean. I'm not interested in pursuing the Sikorsky Archive because it reeks of the Fulcrum. Are you familiar with that, by chance?</p><p>"The Fulcrum? I believe it's - "</p><p>"Don't trouble yourself with trying to devise an answer. I'm aware of it." She interjected. "I can't tell if your claims are true or projections of what I want to hear."</p><p>"They're true. You know they are."</p><p>"I don't know that. How could I? As for whose side I'm on, I think it's safe to say I'm amending my answer on that. I'm choosing me, and in making that choice I choose to stand with him."</p><p>"Elizabeth?! You still don't know who he is."</p><p>"Yes, I do. I know who he is." She stood, positioning herself in the center of the room. Creating the perfect distance from the woman perched on the bed, allowing her the proper space to dwell and contemplate her next words.</p><p>
  <em>In the end, Liz, he's just a man who loves you very much.</em>
</p><p>"He's a man who fights for me although I've given him no reason to, all without expecting or demanding anything of me in return. He's a man of conscience. The decisions he makes, the lives that are often at risk whether they are so because of him or not, he feels all of it. He feels deeply. You, on the other hand, could care less about the consequences so long as you get what you purport to need. Who you hurt doesn't matter to you. Starting with my father, the real 'Raymond Reddington', the 'Raymond Reddington' I've come to know and care about, Dom, Maddie Tolliver, Agnes, Ilya Koslov, Dembe's Imam, me... I won't help you add more names to the list. Because of you, I've ignored every promise I've made to myself and violated every oath I've sworn to uphold. Where he supports me, you ruin me."</p><p>"If that's how you feel, then - "</p><p>"Stop." Elizabeth backed on her heels and held up her left hand, seeking to stop the woman from advancing further. Her right hand fell to the gun at her waist.</p><p>With a smirk on her face, Katarina spoke again.</p><p>"I'm your mother."</p><p>"No. The woman Red spoke of, she was warm and kind. She looked to me as a gift and a blessing. You're neither warm nor kind. I'm not your gift. I'm your resource. There's a big difference." Chewing her lip, she re-centered herself. "My mother, the parts of her that I remember, she died at Cape May. There's no way you can be her."</p><p>Silence filled the room.</p><p>The sound of her cell phone vibrating permeated the quiet.</p><p>A text message.</p><p>
  <em>From: Dr. Clemons</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Message: Vitals good. Grandfather awake soon.</em>
</p><p>"Is everything alright?"</p><p>"That's none of your business." Elizabeth closed her phone, depositing it in her left coat pocket.</p><p>"Against my better judgment, I'm giving you an option which is more than you deserve." She added, sighing. "Leave. Pack your bags, leave the country, and never <strong>ever</strong> come back."</p><p>"Leave? Elizabeth, I can't do that. There's still - "</p><p>"That's your window. Go through it or not. If you don't, I will have you arrested. You may not have killed the agents assigned to my security detail yourself, but that person did work for you. Their blood, including Maddie's, is on your hands. Stay and come near me or Red or Dom or Agnes again. And I'll kill you myself. Clear?"</p><p>The elder woman appeared to deliberate before nodding.</p><p>"Clear."</p><p>Relinquishing her grip on her holster, Elizabeth appraised Katarina from head to toe and slowly pivoted, walking away.</p><p>"He won't forgive you. Reddington. Not once but when he finds out what you've done to aid me, he'll walk away, and you'll be left alone. What will you do then? What are you prepared to do?"</p><p>"To fight. I'll fight for him."</p><p>"And your badge? You're certain to lose that as well."</p><p>"I can survive without it."</p><p>Suspended in the air was the knowledge and certainty of a future encounter looming.</p><p>Next time, she would be ready.</p><p>She would act as she should have weeks before.</p><p>In the end, Elizabeth will have killed both her father and her mother.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Family is a life jacket in the stormy sea of life."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- J.K. Rowling</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>However impractical, it was difficult not to get lost in ruminations of alternate states of being, different outcomes, watching the scene develop and evolve before her eyes from mere glimpses of normalcy into detailed layers. The surprises never stopped coming, Isabella deduced. But the context wasn't always negative.</p>
<p>There were positive elements to find.</p>
<p>A plethora, in fact.</p>
<p>Leaning against the door jam of her daughter's bedroom, she basked in the sight of her Papa reading to Elle who was nestled comfortably against his side. Invariably, he'd look up to find her watching them and smile back all without missing either a line on the page or cadence of the character.</p>
<p>His image at present was a sharp contrast to the one which presented itself hours earlier.</p>
<p>Upon emerging from the back of the sedan, she immediately took note of how exhausted he appeared despite having clearly just woken up. It crept into his posture, his stance and balance. He'd lost weight as well which concerned her even more. If not for Morgan's support...She didn't dare advance either her thought process or the mental construct associated with it. Her father meanwhile remained silent, standing just off to the side which was equally suspect.</p>
<p>There was a chill between the two men who raised her that was impossible to miss, familiar and strange simultaneously.</p>
<p>Factoring in that it wasn't Dembe who offered assistance not out of some unwillingness on his part or delay, but because the younger man was quite insistent on the matter, a singular event from last year came to mind.</p>
<p>Not again.</p>
<p>Who occupied the top position as far as priorities this time around?</p>
<p>Isabella pushed that thought aside and refocused quickly on Raymond who approached her. Stepping out onto the landing to greet him, she kissed his cheek and held him for a long time. How long, no one could calculate. It was inconsequential regardless. Morgan kept a hand at his back for support which both parties appreciated. She knew of his perception of trust, how he defined it as an irregular form of currency. Only a select few were on the receiving end of his. The capacity to lean and rely on another person wasn't a luxury he took advantage of nearly enough in her opinion, although she more than understood his reasons.</p>
<p>Yes, there was a form of pride, a rudimentary concept.</p>
<p>More so, however, was the anxiety that came from having multiple pairs of eyes examining his every move, gesture, and statement for the purpose of discerning a chink in the armor he crafted with great care. At the first sign of weakness, the opposition could move in and as such acquire the upper hand. No one should have to live like that, never mind acclimation.</p>
<p>Frankly, she hated it for him.</p>
<p>Ultimately, determination and survival instincts deserved credit.</p>
<p>She welcomed her father similarly with a kiss on the cheek and quick embrace. Returning to her Papa, she looped her right arm through his left, her fingers finding his bicep. With Morgan following closely, she led him to the threshold of the property. They barely crossed it before she caught sight of her daughter racing to the top of the staircase, clearly intent on descending.</p>
<p>"Careful, Elle."</p>
<p>Advisories of caution were to no avail as she navigated as quickly as her limbs allowed her to, ever determined. There was never any stopping her once she saw 'Ray'. He delighted in the nickname. It also fit given the immense joy he brought to their lives. With what she could only describe as renewed energy and vigor, Raymond removed his signature fedora and passed the item to her before suddenly dropping to his knees. He opened his arms to welcome Elle, holding the little girl tightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the hollow point of his shoulder as he pressed multiple kisses into her thick curls.</p>
<p>"You're really here?" Elle whispered.</p>
<p>"It's me, Princess. I'm here." He answered.</p>
<p>"Mom told me you were coming. I've missed you so much."</p>
<p>"I've missed you too." Raymond ran a hand up and down her back to comfort her as well as himself, blinking his eyes to suppress tears. He didn't want Elle to see them, fearing how she would interpret and respond to them. All too aware of his protective streak, Isabella didn't detect any effort on his part to assume a false image.</p>
<p>He pulled back to peer into the child's face. Her smile was so full and bright.</p>
<p>Elle's eyes, however, let on to the inevitable.</p>
<p>"How long can you stay?"</p>
<p>"Your Mom and I haven't discussed that yet, but I don't want you to think about that. You shouldn't have to."</p>
<p>There was a maturity, courage, and depth of understanding that belied her age. She was young - too young - to worry about such things, he maintained. Attached to that simple question was another layer, 'if' serving as the preface.</p>
<p>Framing her face with his hands, their eyes locked.</p>
<p>Ensuring he had her undivided attention, he continued. "I can't promise you when, but someday everything will be different. Everything will change. I won't have to leave you after only spending a few days here and there together. I'll be around all the time. Who knows... You may wish I wasn't around quite so much."</p>
<p>"Never!" She countered quickly.</p>
<p>He chuckled before resuming his earlier train of thought. "Until that day comes, what I can and do promise is that nothing is more important, more dear, to me than our time - "</p>
<p>"Because I'm your girl." She added from memory.</p>
<p>"Always. You're my girl."</p>
<p>Elle leaned into him again.</p>
<p>Reciprocating with a smile of his own, he prompted. "Now, isn't there something you have to show me?" Dropping his hands from her face, Elle clasped his right in both of her tiny ones and tugged gently. Her daughter's enthusiasm was infectious, eliciting a smile from the usually stoic Chuck who currently stood just behind Dembe.</p>
<p>"Yes! Can we go to my room and play?"</p>
<p>"Lead the way. First, say hi to Grandpa, Morgan, and Chuck."</p>
<p>Morgan quietly approached the pair and helped him to his feet which he appreciated, saying 'Hi' to Elle and raising a hand to her cheek. His left knee was beginning to cramp, but the discomfort was worthwhile. Waiting for Elle, he removed his coat and blazer. Morgan took both articles. Soon after, they were off to the second floor.</p>
<p>With new accommodations came opportunities to decorate and introduce an original flair. Her daughter's space was the first they tackled. It was a proper big girl's room after all, and it was a process that proved to be both liberating and provoking. While the amenities were traditional, the symbolism - the reason - to each choice was anything but.</p>
<p>In truth, her anticipation of the big reveal matched Elle's, but she opted to allow them more one-on-one time before joining in.</p>
<p>Collecting all of the gentlemen's garments and depositing them accordingly, Isabella moved to the kitchen and went about preparing coffee, chamomile tea for Papa, and hot chocolate for Elle. To her left was a wooden tray on which she set out a set of napkins, plates, and saucers for crackers. Their favorite peanut butter and jelly sandwiches served as the finishing touch. Without looking, she sensed her father's presence and took a breath. The laughter from above filtered through the floor boards which made the ensuing exchange all the more uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"How is he?"</p>
<p>The question, to her, represented a safe point to begin with.</p>
<p>"Some days are better than others which is to be expected, but you know Raymond. He pushes himself and still insists on never letting his guard down which I can't fault him for."</p>
<p>She smiled. "Surrendering isn't part of his vernacular."</p>
<p>"No, it isn't." Dembe agreed. "He dreamt of her again. Josephine. I heard him say her name a number of times."</p>
<p>Papa always spoke of her with such warmth and affection.</p>
<p>It was no surprise that he thought of her more and more given that the second anniversary of her passing was coming up. Despite never meeting Josephine, it was through listening to him talk about all of the moments they shared together and plans for a future they sadly never got to enjoy that she knew her.</p>
<p>"You would have liked her." Dembe offered.</p>
<p>Silence settled in which was an indicator of the conversation turning. "I saw the stacks of papers, documents, organized on the coffee table in the living room. Do they have anything to do with Raymond asking that I bring him here?"</p>
<p>Adjusting the temperature on the stove, she turned to her father then.</p>
<p>"Obviously, the two of you have spoken about something."</p>
<p>"We have, but it's not my place to tell you."</p>
<p>"I respect that he made a request of you, but - "</p>
<p>"Papa didn't ask for anything." She clarified. "He shared some concerns with me, and I volunteered to look into them."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"Because I was the only one he could trust! There were questions he needed answers to, and I used every resource at my disposal to ensure that he got them."</p>
<p>"And did you? Did you find what he was looking for?"</p>
<p>"Yes." It was Isabella's turn to deliberate what to say next. "I found out more than I wanted to in certain places."</p>
<p>That answer appeared to satisfy him which she was grateful for, but just as quickly any hope that he wouldn't probe the subject further dissipated.</p>
<p>"He confided in you. Why?"</p>
<p>"For the same reason Morgan's cross with you." She could hear the gears of his mind turning. "Last year, it was Elizabeth. Who did you choose over him this year?"</p>
<p>Again, she encountered only silence.</p>
<p>Her appreciation for its power, the degree of knowledge to be acquired from it, intensified. She had a gut feeling as to what the answer would be given how the list of options was far from heavily populated.</p>
<p>Chuckling, Isabella returned her attention to the stove. She turned the burner off and retrieved a pair of mugs from the cabinet. Rinsing them out, she placed a tea bag in one and emptied a cocoa packet in the other before adding hot water to each.</p>
<p>"We've debated the merits before. My observations now are the same as they were then."</p>
<p>They shared a look, an apology unspoken.</p>
<p>"He and I aren't in lock step when it comes to Elizabeth. We draw opposite conclusions from the same events."</p>
<p>"You both have a blind spot. He loves her so much. You care for her too, but... Where he's realistic, you're optimistic. You want the ultimate outcome to be peaceful and involve little or no bloodshed because a person's potential for good is always present in your mind, but wishing doesn't equal truth. Sometimes, there is no good to find no matter how hard or desperately you look for it. Yes, Elizabeth isn't my favorite person, but it's for that precise reason Papa turned to me in the first place." Isabella shook her head. "She doesn't deserve either of you."</p>
<p>"I don't understand."</p>
<p>"No. You don't now, but you will."</p>
<p>Grasping the handles on each side, she lifted the tray from the countertop and headed for the staircase off the outer hall. The necessity of expressing one point, however, lingered.</p>
<p>"This is an important time for Elle, for all of us."</p>
<p>Having said all she needed to, Isabella climbed the stairs.</p>
<p>Like any parent, she believed Elle was in possession of a magic unique to her, capable of extraordinary accomplishments. Before her eyes was evidence of that. Because they didn't get to celebrate special occasions or milestones together often as a family unit, parcels from abroad were never in short supply. They came in the form of clothing, books, postcards, recipes, garden bulbs, and other knick knacks.</p>
<p>What made Elle's fourth birthday so special was their physical presence.</p>
<p>His operations allowed him to cultivate a vast network, connections of which spanned multiple industries. A single phone call to a curator friend resulted in their having the afternoon at the Monmouth Museum entirely to themselves. Knowing Elle's fascination for the subject matter, he thought she would enjoy the hands-on exhibits the venue offered. She learned later that a prior camping excursion was the catalyst.</p>
<p>As usual, he was correct.</p>
<p>Better still, he seemed just as enthralled with the exercises as she was.</p>
<p>They were adorable to watch together.</p>
<p>The planetarium excited her most of all. She was so enamored with the lights, how the shapes of constellations and stars were projected onto the ceiling. He hoisted her on his shoulders so she could get a closer look. After setting her back down again, she re-claimed his hand, and they were off to examine the floor models. She asked question after another as they went between stations. The look in his eyes, neither Isabella nor her father could ever forget.</p>
<p>So much pride.</p>
<p>Minutes after they returned home that evening, the doorbell rang signaling the arrival of another parcel. She made it a point to get to know all of the delivery couriers. They were all friendly and personable along with professional - Papa wouldn't satisfy for anything less. Preston was the one she saw most often, and she wasn't entirely surprised to see him standing at the door.</p>
<p>The timing was too perfect.</p>
<p>Clearly, he was made aware of their schedule.</p>
<p>Exchanging the usual greetings, he passed the large box to her and wished everyone well before leaving. Moving to the living room, she removed the exterior packing to reveal another wrapped in constellation-themed paper. 'For Elle' was written on the tag in familiar penmanship.</p>
<p>She looked briefly to the two men who smiled knowingly.</p>
<p>"More presents?" Elle asked.</p>
<p>"Yes, baby. Let's take a look."</p>
<p>Removing the wrapping paper to better expose the interior contents, both took a peek. Immediately, Elle screamed with delight, bouncing up and down. Inside was a 1/4 scale solar system model crafted by hand. Each planet was painted per specifications, and an astronaut was also mounted to the black wood base. Her father presented another bag containing storybooks with illustrations, a projector lantern, sketch pads, and pencil set.</p>
<p>Art was an interest of hers as well.</p>
<p>Collectively, they served as focal points of her new room and further informed all amenity choices. Atop her dresser was the model Papa built as well as a photo from their visit to the Monmouth. A member of the staff approached them as they were preparing to leave, asking if all was satisfactory which it was and more, and offered to document the occasion. Her nightstand was similarly decorated, its contents a stack of books and the lantern given previously.</p>
<p>She slipped in quietly, content with observing.</p>
<p>He crouched next to Elle who called attention to the snowy village puzzle she completed recently. Others fully assembled and in frames adorned the walls along with photos. They were all together in some whereas others were individual in scope.</p>
<p>String lights framed the room from corner to corner with clips added at specific intervals. Suspended from them were polaroids, postcards, and hand-written notes to the effect of either quotes or words that sounded interesting. Star cut-outs were similarly hung from each alcove and distributed throughout. Books were arranged by subject with the spines all facing outward and positioned on geometric as well as open-cubed systems. Plush animals were strewn across each. To the far left of the room was a custom corner desk and hutch combination which she used for her puzzles, supply storage, and other studies. Parallel were an easel, padded bench, and telescope.</p>
<p>A rendering of the apple tree they planted in the backyard was in progress.</p>
<p>Both turned at her low knock.</p>
<p>Eyeing the tray, Papa approached, taking it from her grasp and moving to the desk.</p>
<p>"Much appreciated, Bella. Thank you."</p>
<p>"You're welcome."</p>
<p>Surface cleared, he grabbed an extra chair from the outer closet and soon settled in next to Elle who waited patiently, her hands folded across her lap. After a quick prayer per routine, they began eating. This was an image of perfection.</p>
<p>The capacity to restore central.</p>
<p>She wasn't going to ruin it, at least not sooner than she had to.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"A multitude of people and yet a solitude."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Charles Dickens</em>
</p>
<p>She was and wasn't alone at the same time.</p>
<p>Seconds expanded into minutes.</p>
<p>Minutes became an hour.</p>
<p>All the while, Elizabeth's eyes darted between her grandfather's profile, the image of peace and contentment in contrast of the multiple wires and tubes present, the stack of books on his nightstand, and the set of double doors, a cot and table set positioned on the opposite side. Her hands were clenched across her lap. She breathed heavily, waiting rather than comforting herself with a visualization of Red pushing them open and passing through.</p>
<p>If he were to do so, would he approach her?</p>
<p>Wrong question. Because of course he would.</p>
<p>Wouldn't he?</p>
<p>Stop dwelling on that woman's assessment, she kept reminding herself.</p>
<p>Even in a state of conflict, hers and Red's paths were intertwined. Gravity would intervene and lead one, the other, or both to the proper destination. She perceived the receipt of Dr. Clemons's message as a manifestation of that sequence. She took a final glance at the woman, left that god forsaken hotel, and drove away as quickly as possible in the hopes of seeing him only to be surprised and disappointed greatly by his absence.</p>
<p>He was so particular and attentive to every aspect of Dom's medical care.</p>
<p>Images from her visit months prior returned, and she cringed as the memory of her words sprung to life.</p>
<p>
  <em>You tried to kill your own child. What kind of person would do something like that?</em>
</p>
<p>Now, that question shifted to what kind of person casts aspersions on someone incapable of mounting any sort of response, even less a defense?</p>
<p>She should have known better.</p>
<p>She did, in fact, know better.</p>
<p>However small or limited their time shared was, warmth was the most prominent quality. Yes, events from the past haunted him - he was remorseful even. But absent from their interactions were any displays of hostility. Instead of recoiling or given the nature of his wounds remaining still, he reached for Red, first grasping his shirt and then one of his hands tightly.</p>
<p>Speaking of whom -</p>
<p>"Where's Red?" She asked Dr. Clemons upon arrival.</p>
<p>Checking her watch, she calculated that less than eight hours passed between the man in question collapsing before her eyes and now. No way could he have traveled a great distance, if any given his condition or at least her assumption about his physical state.</p>
<p>"I don't know where he is, Elizabeth. He - "</p>
<p>"You don't know?! You're his doctor. How does he leave and not tell you where he's going?"</p>
<p>In response, the doctor looked at her incredulously.</p>
<p>Who were they kidding?</p>
<p>This was still Red. Even in less than peak condition, he was only going to relay so much. He still enjoyed the right to privacy.</p>
<p>"Raymond has spent so many hours - sitting with Dominic, talking to him, reading books. Some of which I'm told are written in his native Russian. On occasion, he spends full nights here and is typically gone just after first light. When he isn't here, we're usually on the phone."</p>
<p>"Did he say anything to you earlier, before he left?"</p>
<p>He shook his head. "Dembe came to pick him up about a couple hours after you left. That's the last I've spoken with him."</p>
<p>Perhaps it was only a projection, but Elizabeth was more inclined to go with fact.</p>
<p>She sensed a willingness on the physician's part to call and check on, for lack of better phrasing, his patient. Employing the tactic, taking advantage of the situation, wasn't a maneuver she felt right about which was quite the revelation given the frequency in which all parties manipulated, suppressed, and traded statistics.</p>
<p>Forcing the issue wasn't the answer.</p>
<p>She forfeited any right, or semblance of, to be apprised of his concerns.</p>
<p>"When he wants to be found, he'll reach out."</p>
<p>That was the problem with their being in flux.</p>
<p>
  <em>We're at cross purposes, Elizabeth. Not about Agnes. About Agnes, we're in lock step.</em>
</p>
<p>In retrospect, they weren't in lock step then. Not truly. The last time they enjoyed true synchronicity was during her tenure as the second most wanted fugitive, weeks and months preceding Agnes's birth oddly enough. Once perceived as a burden, she also realized now what an honor it was to see, really see, the world and all corners of it through his slant.</p>
<p>Never mind creating a list of types of people and then dissecting the patterns of behavior one is expected to hone using general terminology. Also irrelevant were timelines concerning what she came to know and when she came into the possession of that knowledge.</p>
<p>Returning focus to her grandfather, she unclenched one of her hands and gently covered one of his, careful of the IV line attached. This morning, the intubation tube had been removed. His oxygen levels were well within range, and his lung capacity was exactly where it needed to be.</p>
<p>He was breathing on his own and emerging from the woods.</p>
<p>
  <em>So much to say.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And a lifetime left to say it.</em>
</p>
<p>Was it any wonder that no one trusted her with so much as a particle?</p>
<p>She was the bomb that needed diffusing. Accomplishing that was levied upon a stroke of fortune. Wide or slim, the length didn't matter. It was a new line that required drawing, one that no breath of air could erase.</p>
<p>The floodgates opened, and there was no reversing course.</p>
<p>Tears pooled and fell freely as the pressure beneath her hand grew. Shifting her grip, she studied her grandfather's larger hand, his wrist turning. Slowly, his palm opened, and his fingers folded into hers.</p>
<p>As expected, his clutch was weaker than customary.</p>
<p>But there was definitive strength.</p>
<p>"Dom." She whispered. "Dom, it's me. It's Masha."</p>
<p>The movement beneath his eyelids increased as her initial calls registered. He was waking up, and she couldn't contain her excitement.</p>
<p>"If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."</p>
<p>His grip tightened just a bit. He blinked again multiple times and angled his head towards her, tracking her voice. Evaluated in either an individual or collective sense, they were all emblematic of a good outcome.</p>
<p>"That's it, Dom."</p>
<p>She was advised not to rush as there were lingering concerns about his neurological and cognitive functions, assessments of which couldn't be conducted until he reached a state of consciousness – and he was likely to tire quickly. Before her was a lack of evidence to support deficiencies in any of those areas.</p>
<p>There was no disorientation or uncertainty.</p>
<p>Dom's gaze was clear, fully lucid, and he appeared to be in great spirits.</p>
<p>"Masha." He said, clearing his throat. His voice was hoarse due to lack of use but comforting, reassuring, just the same.</p>
<p>"Welcome back." Elizabeth smiled, absorbing the occasion and its gravity.</p>
<p>"How long have I been here?"</p>
<p><em>'Too long'</em> came to mind immediately.</p>
<p>"5 months."</p>
<p>Responding with a sigh, Dom stared at her for a prolonged period before taking stock of the room and immediate surroundings. He first looked to the medical equipment, then the furnishings, book stacks, and the chair she currently occupied.</p>
<p>To his right was another chair unclaimed.</p>
<p>His focus sharpened, and she anticipated what was to come.</p>
<p>"Raymond! Is he - "</p>
<p>Seeing the panic in his eyes, Elizabeth lifted her free hand to his shoulder and leaned inward, wanting to assuage his fears in an expedient manner. "Reddington's okay. He's alive. Don't worry."</p>
<p>Relief overtook both, and a separate thought occurred to her: What was the last thing he remembered? Instead of pursuing that line of inquiry further, she retrieved the pitcher from the end table and filled a glass with water, offering it to him.</p>
<p>"Thank you." He said, taking generous sips.</p>
<p>Returning both items to their original place, she clasped his hand again and ever so slightly shrunk in her chair as he analyzed her.</p>
<p>"Something's wrong. You seem...changed."</p>
<p>She shook her head and smiled ruefully. "That's not important. Now isn't about me. It's about you, that you're here. You're awake."</p>
<p>"Masha, please. Tell me what troubles you."</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm sorry.</em>
</p>
<p>Simple.</p>
<p>Basic, but profound.</p>
<p>Those two words encapsulated so much: words she wanted to take back, bridges she wanted to burn to a cinder, actions she wanted to undo. Only she couldn't, and the feeling attached both resembled and redefined helplessness.</p>
<p>"I'm so, so sorry." She said aloud.</p>
<p>"Sorry? For what?"</p>
<p>
  <em>Can you forgive me?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes. Will you be able to forgive yourself?</em>
</p>
<p>"My questions have caused so much damage. I've done many things, things I regret, things that I am not proud of, and I don't want you to hate me. I don't want Reddington to hate me."</p>
<p>"Hate." Dom managed to chuckle. "That's a strong word."</p>
<p>"Maybe, but what if it fits?"</p>
<p>It was Dom's turn to take additional time to ponder and apply the brakes to their exchange. "That woman. She got to you, didn't she?"</p>
<p>Elizabeth could only nod, concurring with his observation.</p>
<p>"Then, you know I lied to you. About Raymond, about who he is."</p>
<p>"I do." She chewed her lip.</p>
<p>"You're curious. My reasons must matter to you."</p>
<p>"Yes, they matter, but only because Reddington suggested that the time you've known each other has been...Unpleasant is the word he used."</p>
<p>"Taking responsibility is hard. Blaming, on the other hand, that's easy."</p>
<p>
  <em>Something happens when you've known someone that long, when after all of life's twists and turns you look over and there they are – still in it with you, still yours.</em>
</p>
<p>"I haven't been what you would call particularly nice or fair to him. I've been quite harsh. While I don't envy him, I do admire and respect him a great deal. There's no one I respect more, trust more, with my life. I lied to you because - "</p>
<p>"You care." She supplied the remainder.</p>
<p>"Don't tell him I told you."</p>
<p>"I won't."</p>
<p>That's a promise she was fully capable of keeping. Beneath the smiles reciprocated in intervals was a mutual certainty that Red knew and therefore didn't need guidance or direction.</p>
<p>"A name isn't an identity. It's a label, nothing more. Character, experiences, principles - that's an identity. Raymond's not the enemy, not mine or yours or even this country's. That is the truth. That's the answer I felt you needed so that you will know, find comfort, and be safe. If I was wrong to presume, then I'm - "</p>
<p>"No. You don't have to apologize." She interjected.</p>
<p>With a nod, he continued. "Also, he loves you very much. I've seen that first-hand many times. One stands out."</p>
<p>By design or otherwise, she was intrigued.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"Four years ago, after everyone was convinced that you died..." Dom trailed off. "He came to my house, told me what happened, how you had given birth to a daughter and passed away soon after, and what transpired in the months before. I lashed out, let on to being angry with him, because I couldn't bear to see the grief and scars that have plagued me reflected in his face. I still can't, although his pain is deeper. It's worse for him than it could ever be for me."</p>
<p>"Worse? How?"</p>
<p>"Katarina, the daughter I raised, died long ago. His losses predate that."</p>
<p>
  <em>It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life - bills to pay, play dates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Lost how?</em>
</p>
<p>"Later on, a colleague of yours came to speak with him."</p>
<p>"A colleague? Who?"</p>
<p>"Aram. I think that was his name."</p>
<p>Why am I just finding this out now, she wondered.</p>
<p>"He pleaded with Raymond to go with him, rejoin the task force. Raymond declined. He wasn't aware that I was listening, that I heard every word shared between them. Afterward, he left, said he was going to take a long walk of the property. I sat in the kitchen and waited. When he returned, we talked, and I gave him what he asked for."</p>
<p>"Which was?"</p>
<p>"A way forward."</p>
<p>History binds and has a way of repeating itself.</p>
<p>"Don't blame yourself, Masha. Operatives are trained to find weaknesses and exploit them. They're also taught to adapt, become a chameleon."</p>
<p>Elizabeth continued to shake her head, despair clawing its way anew and threatening to break the skin. "I've hurt and let down so many people in her name. I accused you of things which are...There's no excuse for how I've acted. How do I move forward from that?"</p>
<p>"You already are."</p>
<p>"I told her I'd kill her should she ever return, come near you or Reddington or Agnes."</p>
<p>"You broke free, and you're trying to chart your own course. There's progress in that."</p>
<p>This time, she was the one wearing a quizzical expression.</p>
<p>"Fear or worry of disappointment comes from a place of love. Hate doesn't. Anyone who loves you can never hate you. I don't hate you, and Raymond won't. Truthfully, he couldn't."</p>
<p>"You can't know that for sure."</p>
<p>"Yes, I can. Because I know him. He's no different from me or you. He's human – he feels, he's passionate and curious. Hatred, like loss, weighs a person down. Between the two of us, we've carried more than our fair share."</p>
<p>"Reddington never talks about them, his wife and daughter."</p>
<p>"He wouldn't. Talking is hard too."</p>
<p>"I wish he'd let me in."</p>
<p>"Or that you'd allow yourself to let him in…? Raymond said you inherited my temper. It seems you've inherited my tenacity as well. The heart is a complicated organ. The things you want, you have to work for them. You have to work at the relationships you value. I'm guilty of taking the people closest to me for granted. With your help, I hope to change that."</p>
<p>Squeezing her hand with more force than before, he pressed on.</p>
<p>"That woman put me in this bed. Because of Raymond, because of you, I'm getting out of it."</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated, but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- F. Scott Fitzgerald</em>
</p>
<p>If the prism of one's own life and sum of experiences is truly skewed, Raymond supposed there was solace in a reaction shared.</p>
<p>Fortunately, he never deluded himself or bought into the notion of Elizabeth playing a part outside of an emissary.  The scope of Isabella's findings offered little in the way of surprises. Nonetheless, it was the flip side of the coin that put him in direct contact with a predicament far more daunting than conceived. A repeat exercise of forgiveness of testing the pre-established boundaries morphed into a salvage operation.</p>
<p>How had it come to this?</p>
<p>Isolating locations to attack, perimeter studies, clocking when parties entered and left day-to-day with specific focus on 'who', and then finally arranging for the perfect extraction – what she managed to achieve without anyone being none the wiser was a credit or would have been to her resolve if the cost wasn't the destruction of her spirit, her character and the light he cherished and revered so much. Whereas Dembe's light reflected structure, stability, and direction, hers contained the power of actualization.</p>
<p>Exposure to his world was meant to further impress upon her the concept of perseverance, rising above and prevailing upon rather than succumbing to.</p>
<p>She was meant to facilitate his re-emergence from the darkness.</p>
<p>Now, he was the one grasping for both an understanding of why and a strategy to rescue her, a mode of bringing her back into the light. Given the depth of her descent, recovery was uncertain, a generous interpretation all elements considered. As if navigating the substantial waters weren't enough, there were also legal obstacles, but those ranked low on his periphery. Between the cache of transcripts, documents, and surveillance material, none proved more distressing than the image he couldn't bring himself to either relinquish or look away from.</p>
<p>Two people were sitting close at a park table, one adult and one child.</p>
<p>On the surface, the scene appeared innocent – ordinary and normal. Therein was the problem. Evaluated individually or collectively, those descriptions were rare commodities in his arena, less common than trust and true friendship. Upon deeper study, the identity of the subjects inspired the horror and dejection dominating the living room.</p>
<p>Agnes and -</p>
<p><strong><em>Her</em></strong>.</p>
<p>She was the mystery sitter.</p>
<p>The sequence of photos that followed relayed the full story. A pair of men followed Katarina into the comfort station and didn't emerge until several hours later, not of their own volition by the way. Preceding that, Agnes entered to find -</p>
<p>He shuddered at the thought.</p>
<p>What happened to his Elizabeth? What happened to the young woman who stabbed him in the neck with a pen because he didn't comply with her demands?</p>
<p>One could classify him as a creature of habit. She, by contrast, was just a creature. She was unknown, dangerous and still fundamental to his very existence.</p>
<p>How had they become so estranged?</p>
<p>Was he responsible for her transformation?</p>
<p>
  <em>Don't blame yourself, my love.</em>
</p>
<p>He heard her voice as clearly as he felt her slender hand.</p>
<p>
  <em>It's not your fault.</em>
</p>
<p>Whenever he was upset or troubled, Josephine would begin at the base of his scalp before traversing to the right spot between his shoulder blades. She knew exactly how to comfort him. He looked up to find Isabella kneeling before him. One of her hands was on his knee, the other found his wrist. She was saying something, except he couldn't focus on her words.</p>
<p>Hickory as it sizzled and cracked balanced him.</p>
<p>
  <em>There are limits, even for people like us – especially for people like us.</em>
</p>
<p>He'd given her the benefit of the doubt at every turn. As a result, she took his presence for granted – she assumed he would always be there. Did she have reason to believe otherwise? Like it or not, he was in part responsible not because of some facts she was desperate to acquire and failed to, but in neglecting to teach her one key principle: repercussions.</p>
<p>Consequences.</p>
<p>Yes, he had a way of expressing his disappointment and occasionally even anger with her, but she never had to take a step back and ask herself the really difficult questions because he was so quick to act and defend her in the face of any and every indiscretion. His dedication and commitment to her provided insulation from the world, its cruelty, and her own growth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Love wins.</em>
</p>
<p>Maybe it did once.</p>
<p>All depends on which variant or definition of victory was in play.</p>
<p>But not now. Love opened the door to pain and suffering.</p>
<p>The stakes were too high to chart a safe course.</p>
<p>If she was capable of putting Agnes in the crosshairs and upon discovering the risks taking no measure to extract her from the situation, there was no telling who else would similarly be drawn in. Immediately, he thought of the child sleeping upstairs. Validation was never something he needed or sought out. Affirmation, on the other hand, was increasingly vital. That many people wanted him didn't automatically translate into his being needed. Every now and then, it was nice to be reminded or rather assured that he was.</p>
<p>Elle was an intelligent, thoughtful child.</p>
<p>It wasn't lost on any of the adults on the premises, him especially, that she clung to him more so than usual. Yes, she missed him, and he missed her greatly – they were making up for lost time. Given her nature, the sole indicator was what she didn't say as opposed to what she did express vocally. He and Isabella agreed that they would sit down and together tell her that he was sick when the time was right, remarks prefaced with little need to worry because he would be fine. Was it possible in the meantime that Elle already knew or suspected there was more to his asking her to be brave awhile longer?</p>
<p>Dembe and Isabella were among the select few that truly knew and loved him.</p>
<p>They needed him.</p>
<p>Others did as well, but as means to a different end for some which he reconciled with.</p>
<p>The degree in which Elle needed him surpassed even theirs and vice-versa. Being with her, holding her, reading to her, sharing a laugh – activities attributed to normal people with regular lives – transported him to another place and time where he had it all and there were far more tomorrows ahead of him.</p>
<p>That promise lingered.</p>
<p>Responsibilities to others demanded his attention still.</p>
<p>He could no longer compromise their safety by sparing Elizabeth.</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry, Papa."</p>
<p>Isabella's voice registered.</p>
<p>Returning her glance, he loosened his grip on the dreaded photo and smiled sadly. "It's not as if I expected a different outcome. It's just..."</p>
<p>"I know, and I'm still sorry. You're disappointed, and I don't blame you. She's been lying to you and working against you for months." She elaborated, lightly squeezing his hand. "Mr. Carter was instrumental in my getting all of the pieces together. He knew what I needed without my having to ask. He's unconventional as you told me and very thorough. Together, we reviewed these tapes, screen grabs, permit applications. We spoke with a number of people who were at the park that day as well. Across the board, their accounts were all the same – a little girl was having a nice time with her grandmother. No one noticed either the men who followed her inside or her state of disarray after what happened."</p>
<p>She paused suddenly and looked away. "Because there were gaps in the official findings, more field work was required."</p>
<p>Among present company, only one person had extensive training in forensics which meant -</p>
<p>"The interior images, you took them?" He leaned forward, covering her hand as it rested on his knee with his free one. "You retrieved hair, blood samples, and paint chips from the scene."</p>
<p>Isabella nodded.</p>
<p>Shaking his head, he continued. "That was risky, Bella. Too risky."</p>
<p>"But necessary. Don't worry, Papa. I can take care of myself. Besides, I…I didn't go alone."</p>
<p>"Who went with you?" Dembe asked.</p>
<p>"It's not important."</p>
<p>"Isn't it?"</p>
<p>"By comparison, no." Raymond intervened. "But I am curious."</p>
<p>"Baz. I called him, and he went with me. Heddie was kind enough to stay with Elle."</p>
<p>Raymond surmised as much. Given all that transpired in recent months coupled with evaluating all pieces on the chess board, he thought it was more prudent for Dom to reap the advantages of high-level security in its purest form. No one was more qualified in that regard, he thought, than Baz who retooled and expanded his base operation independently.</p>
<p>"So long as you were careful...You're here now, that's most important."</p>
<p>"Mr. Carter insisted on documenting the scene himself, but given that the precipitating crime took place in a ladies' restroom I thought my going in was the best option available. It wouldn't raise alarm or call for more attention."</p>
<p>"You're correct, as usual." He chuckled.</p>
<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
<p>"I don't know." Squeezing her hand, he leaned back into the chair cushions and focused on the fireplace, captivated by the sudden onslaught of pine. His mental gears turned as he weighed potential approaches.</p>
<p>"You're allowed to be angry."</p>
<p>The assertion itself didn't surprise him so much as its source. He turned to Dembe as he crossed the room. There was contrition in his posture, but to what end?</p>
<p>"She's on my side. Didn't you say that to me hours earlier?"</p>
<p>"I was wrong."</p>
<p>"Yes, you were. You know my stance on this issue, Dembe. When it comes to Elizabeth, or anyone we allow ourselves to love and fully commit to, we're often rendered blind to what's in front of us. New or long standing. Trust, on the other hand, isn't so easy to repair or get back once it's gone or forfeited as is the case. You believed that I forgave her last year, and I suppose to a degree I did because it was something I felt I had to do at the time which ultimately brings me to our conversation from earlier today. Because I trust you, I'm more inclined to listen to and take to heart rather than dismiss how you see things. There's a place within you that makes it possible for you to trust her that doesn't exist within me anymore."</p>
<p>"I'm trying to understand, Raymond. Yes, you keep things from her, but this - "</p>
<p>He scoffed. "At least we agree on something. While I don't understand her motives, I <strong><em>do</em></strong> know that certain excuses stop working after awhile. What she does or doesn't know about me is irrelevant."</p>
<p>"I agree."</p>
<p>"So, what do you propose then?"</p>
<p>"Talk to her. Try reaching out to her, as I asked her to do for you once."</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>When was that request made, he wondered.</p>
<p>Isabella spoke first. "I won't bother to ask about the timeline, so instead I'll ask this: 'Why?'. Why should Papa be the one to initiate anything when she's on the wrong side of the equation? Why are you continuing to defend her?"</p>
<p>Seeing the fury in her eyes as she stood, control of the situation spiraled.</p>
<p>"Bella. Dembe. Please, stop." Raymond implored, but neither heard him.</p>
<p>The pair's demands quickly overlapped.</p>
<p>Who constructed what observation, he couldn't ascertain.</p>
<p>Like her daughter, Isabella represented the best of both worlds. Where she most resembled him was in her conviction, how she never wavered once an opinion or belief was formed and defended it fiercely. Per standard events, he would proud, but he feared that quality would prove to be their undoing. Making that concession hurt like hell, but they couldn't afford to come apart now as doing so would, from his perspective, serve no one's agenda but hers.</p>
<p>They had to stand together.</p>
<p>Isolating him defined success.</p>
<p>He refused to give or appear to give her any satisfaction.</p>
<p>Sinking further, he closed his eyes, lifting one hand to his temple and massaging the area in a circular pattern with his fingertips while clenching the other into a tight fist. While not loud in the way of volume, both thankfully mindful of Elle, their voices resounded nonetheless.</p>
<p>"Elizabeth isn't a bad person. She's - "</p>
<p>"Confused, again? Fine. Despite her training, education, and experience in the field, she can't think for herself. The delineation she operates from doesn't involve being able to separate truth from fiction. Papa and whoever happens to show up are her measures."</p>
<p>"That's why I think there's a chance he can still reach her." Turning to him, Dembe continued. "Raymond, she'll listen to you."</p>
<p>"She hasn't listened to me thus far. Why would she start now?"</p>
<p>"Because you love her. You need to remind her of that, and maybe she'll come to a similar realization herself."</p>
<p>"She already has, or she..." He trailed off, lowering his hand from his temple and leaning forward, staring at the embers.</p>
<p>
  <em>I love you. That's what I wanted to say. That's what I wanted you to hear.</em>
</p>
<p>"Elizabeth did once. Last year, before what was supposed to be my execution."</p>
<p>"You never said anything. We could've talked about it." Dembe offered.</p>
<p>"I wanted to hold onto that moment, preserve it, and prolong confronting the reality of what she'd done. Here we are a year later, confronting what she's become."</p>
<p>"One factor's cleared up. You're not meeting her at a location out of our control." Isabella argued.</p>
<p>Raymond shook his head. "That's not an option."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"Because this is your home, yours and Elle's. Bella, I can't risk her coming here - "</p>
<p>"And I can't risk anymore harm coming to you!"</p>
<p>"Raymond won't be unprotected, Isa."</p>
<p>"It doesn't feel that way to me." Isabella gave her father a hard look before turning to him again. "I'd love to hear how she explains this lapse of judgment. If an ulterior motive presents itself..." She gestured to the locked corner cabinet. "She'll second guess acting on it."</p>
<p>The silence between them stretched as their eyes remained locked. There was no mistaking or misunderstanding her expression. She was both resigned and immovable, depths of resolve and a protective streak mirroring his own.</p>
<p>With no alternate path in sight, there was only one move to make.</p>
<p>"Dembe, call Elizabeth."</p>
<p> </p>
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